


Three Weeks

by qwertybob



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Beards (Facial Hair), Boys Kissing, College, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-The Raven King, Romance, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 03:36:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7026913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwertybob/pseuds/qwertybob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been three weeks since Adam has returned to the Barns. Ronan has grown a beard and Adam has no chill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Weeks

Adam hadn’t been home in three weeks because of exams and his internship, and his body was itching to be back at the Barns. He’d left a message on Ronan’s phone that he’d be arriving today, and his voice had been so high-strung, Ronan probably thought a crazed mad-man was coming to his house later, with a promise to break the door down and spend the weekend in his bed.   

Adam tried calling again, but Ronan didn’t answer. Perhaps he was at the police station, filing some sort of restraining order.

Adam could barely keep his legs still on the pedals as he drove. He stalled the car a few times and raised a hand in apology at the angry drivers who got stuck behind him. He imagined Ronan’s swearing at how much of a useless fuck he was—a mechanic who couldn’t even drive stick!—but imagining Ronan swearing at him made him laugh and made his chest hurt and made him stall the car again, and it was all just a miserably stupid cycle that he had to get out of if he was ever going to make it to the Barns before the sun went down.

Adam wondered if Ronan would be angry or surprised or happy to see him. He imagined it would be some sort of combination of all three. Ronan, angry that it had been three weeks since they last saw each other face to face; Ronan, surprised that Adam had deigned to take time off his busy schedule to come see him (sarcastically surprised still counted as surprised); Ronan, secretly happy that Adam was back. Adam imagined kissing Ronan’s face and his neck and his chest, and then he had to pull over to collect himself or else he would have stalled the car again, and really, it was becoming unacceptable now. Adam was a better driver than this.

Usually the Barns had a calming effect on Adam, a stillness that he couldn’t find anywhere else, but as soon as he pulled into the lot and saw the magnificent house and the hay bales and the herds of animals and thought of Ronan walking barefoot in the grass, his entire body clenched, and his heart wouldn’t stop racing, and the tires of the BMW skidded across the gravel, and Adam was jumping out of the car without turning off the engine.

Ronan burst from the door, alarm on his face as he took in the image of Adam sprinting towards him. When he realized it was the BMW and not some street racer coming to crash into his house, his surprise turned into a scowl and he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Adam. What the fuck? You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Adam stopped, the sound of Ronan’s voice entering his good ear and going straight to his groin. Ronan was annoyed, he could tell by the sound of his exhale, but Adam didn’t care. It was still the sexiest thing he ever heard. And he needed a moment. Maybe two.

Adam stood in the gravel, the adrenaline that had propelled him into the driveway still pounding fiercely in his veins, but as he was letting the sound of Ronan’s voice wash over him, he took in the full extent of Ronan’s glory. The tank, the leather bracelets, the faint lines of scars on his arms, the creeping of claws and beaks along his neck—all of it was the same. Familiar and home and everything he missed and loved and wanted.

But there was something different. Instead of the shaved head, there was a thicker layer of dark hair curling at Ronan’s neck, wrapping around his ears, sticking up at the front like Ronan had been running his hand through it. And instead of his shaved face, a lush beard covered his cheeks and his jaw—trimmed, dark, glorious. A fucking  _masterpiece_.

Adam’s mouth went dry. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Ronan said, taking a step down from the porch and waving his hand in Adam’s face. He was barefoot, and Adam swallowed. “Parrish, are you having a stroke?”

Adam surged forward, grabbing Ronan’s startled face and attacked his mouth. Ronan only protested for a second before wrapping his arms around Adam’s back and returning the heated kiss. Adam pushed him back and Ronan grunted as they fell on the steps, but Adam didn’t stop, hands running through the soft hair over Ronan’s head, the rougher hair on his face, the friction of it heating Adam on the inside. His fingers traced the tattoo on Ronan’s neck, the black ink that he knew so well, but somehow always found something he hadn’t seen before every time he looked at it.

Adam couldn’t breathe, but he couldn’t stop kissing Ronan either, and air seemed like less of a priority at the moment. Three weeks was too long. Never again.

“Jesus  _fuck_ , Parrish,” Ronan gasped against his mouth. “I missed you too, but Christ—slow  _down_.”

But Adam knew he didn’t really mean it. The bearded dreamer was feeling this just as much as Adam was.

“Ronan,” Adam said, pulling on Ronan’s hair and roughly dragging a hand across Ronan’s beard. “What the fuck is this?”

Ronan scowled, but Adam did not give it time to fester. He kissed Ronan again before he could reply, satisfied without an answer for a few minutes.

“You don’t like it?” Ronan said when Adam finally let him go. His face was hidden against Adam’s neck, but his breath was bated, like he was anxious about Adam’s answer. 

Adam laughed, the giddiness in his chest threatening to rend him into pieces. He had never known happiness like this before. He didn’t think it was fair that he should feel this happy when someone else was suffering somewhere, like Adam was stealing all of their joy. But Ronan’s hand on his chest and on his back and along his ribs was too much, and there was enough happiness in him to spill over to the rest of the world. Adam had never been greedy and he never needed much; he had plenty of happiness to share. 

He kissed Ronan again, slowly, showing Ronan with his mouth just how much he loved the fucking beard and the fucking hair, until both of them were breathing hard and scrambling for each other’s clothes. Ronan’s hands clenched around Adam’s hips, and it was all he could do to keep from exploding. They were still sprawled messily along the steps like Ronan’s discarded tank and Adam’s discarded shirt, and Adam had to laugh. On his drive over, he had wondered how far they’d get into the house before they got distracted, and Adam had modestly decided the kitchen was a fair and generous estimation.

They hadn’t even made it past the front steps.

"Fucking hell, Adam." Ronan pulled back, eyes shut, pressing his forehead against Adam's. "Give me a minute, will you? Jesus. Christ."

“Where’s Opal?”

“They took her hiking,” Ronan said, apparently recovered as his hot mouth pressed against Adam’s neck. “She was already gone by the time I got your message, but they’ll be back tomorrow.”

Adam yanked Ronan to his feet and pushed him towards the door. Ronan’s hand wrapped around his arm and pulled him inside.

\----

Sunday morning, Adam woke to lips kissing his cheeks. He sighed, reaching for Ronan’s face, then realized his fingers brushed against smooth skin.

“ _Noooo_ ,” he complained as Ronan laughed against Adam’s fingers. Lips kissed palms, and Adam felt it in more than his hands. “Why’d you shave it?”

“Your skin was getting all red. Trust me, your face will thank me later,” Ronan said, falling onto the bed next to him. Their hands found each other through the sheets. “Also, Opal said it made me look like one of the goats.”

Adam laughed and rubbed his eyes open with his free hand. Ronan was looking at him, his head freshly shorn, and Adam ran his hand over the short hairs, the feeling like pulling on your most comfortable sweater on a cold morning, before finding its final resting place on Ronan’s cheek.

“Disappointed?” Ronan asked, his eyes searching Adam’s face.

Adam smiled and shook his head. “Never.”

Ronan snorted, but his neck grew red as he put his hand on top of Adam’s. Their fingers weaved into each other against Ronan’s cheek as he closed his eyes. Adam looked at this impossible boy who made his heart swell to an impossible size, and wondered if there was a limit to the feeling in his chest.

Adam rubbed his thumb against the smooth skin and sighed, feeling perfectly content. Ronan opened his eyes, a wry sort of amusement dancing behind the blue. “It’ll grow back, Parrish, calm down.”

Adam laughed. “By next weekend?”

Ronan scoffed, sunlight from the window dancing across his face. “Am I going to get the same enthusiastic greeting if it does?” 

“Will the beard grow faster if the answer’s yes?”

Ronan grinned, the smile of a street racer stopped at a red light and his foot on the gas. He turned his face to kiss the heel of Adam’s palm. “One week, Parrish. Prepare yourself.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am living in Pynch hell and I can’t get these two losers out of my head. It’s interfering with my life. I am slowly dying on the inside. Please send help.


End file.
